


in from the rain

by norgbelulah



Category: Justified
Genre: 5 Acts Meme, Clothing, Episode Tag, F/M, Post Season 3, Rain, Weather
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 03:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/389305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/norgbelulah/pseuds/norgbelulah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It doesn’t surprise her that the Marshal, Raylan, is out so late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in from the rain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ozmissage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozmissage/gifts).



Lindsey is closing up, taking her time about it because she’s damn tired, when she hears a scrabbling at the lock, the jangle of keys crashing to the ground, and a muttered curse on the opposite side of her door.

She looks out the high windows, noting the rain is still pouring down, as it has been for about an hour.

It doesn’t surprise her that the Marshal, Raylan, is out so late. 

She imagines most men in his position, particularly ones who choose to live above a bar like hers, would keep strange hours. He’s been gone a lot lately, ever since that creepy blue-eyed dick came through her place, and she figures it’s because Raylan’s chasing him, though she hasn’t asked. It’s really none of her business.

She goes over to the door, unlocking the padlock and pulling the door open while he’s straightening up, soaking wet keys dangling from his fingers.

He’s so preoccupied he’s raised the keys up again, looking to put them in the lock, before he realizes she’s there. He blinks at her. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she replies with half a smile and pulls him inside.

Every inch of him is dripping. His tight, black t-shirt is stuck to him, the sheen of water reflecting colors from the neon signs she hasn’t yet turned off. He’s wearing a flannel shirt, unbuttoned, but it’s soaked through as well. When he looks down at the puddle he’s made on the floor, a tiny waterfall pours off the brim of his hat and onto her shoes.

He looks sheepishly at her from under that brim and she can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll clean this up,” he tells her and she can hear how tired he is in his voice, in the way it creaks and each word breaks off like he’s snapped them in half on the way out of his mouth.

She shakes her head at him and pulls a towel off the bar. “Nah, dry off, Raylan. Joe can get it in the morning if it hasn’t evaporated.”

He presses the towel to his face then drags it across the back of his neck, though she can’t see how it’ll help too much, since he hasn’t taken off the sodden hat yet. He looks at her and his eyes are tired, but they look young somehow, open, and the rest of his face seems years older.

She puts a hand to his cheek without even thinking about it and he stills, not quite meeting her eyes. “What happened to you?” she asks.

He shivers and she hasn’t moved her hand. “Long day,” he replies and tries to smile.

It really, really doesn’t work. She frowns at him and he looks away like he can’t take it.

“Come upstairs, Raylan,” she says, as if it’s her place she’s inviting him into and not his.

She can tell how tired he is by how slow he takes the stairs. She pulls him up by his hand and his grip is as loose as hers is steady. 

She leads him to the foot of the bed, the room is dark but she’s been up here enough, with him and before, to know the layout of the space. She takes off his hat and walks to the closet to hang it on the handle where she’s seen him put it sometimes.

He looks younger still without it on, even in the dark. He looks at her like he doesn’t know what to do.

“You just came from her place?” she asks quietly as she helps him peel off the flanel. It’s always “her” when they talk about his ex. Lindsey doesn’t know her name, doesn’t care to right now, and wouldn’t unless this goes on much, much longer.

“Yeah,” he answers after they work the t-shirt off him. His skin is cold and clammy. He’s shivering harder now and blinking like he’s trying to force himself to stop. “But it’s not just that,” he adds then shuts his mouth tightly.

She runs her hands up and down his arms, to try and warm them up. “Okay,” she says easily.

She’s got her hands at his belt and he’s peering at her like he’s not sure she’s for real. “You want to know what it is?” 

She shrugs and puts her hands on either side of his hips. She looks up at him and knows what he needs to hear. Lindsey is excellent at giving people what they need and she loves to do it. She owns a bar after all and she thinks of it as a calling not a job. 

But she feels lucky this time that what he needs to hear is what she needs to say. “I don’t want to hear it if you don’t want to tell me, Raylan.”

The sigh that follows is long and deep. She presses a kiss, soft and chaste, to the side of his mouth. She takes her hands from him, knowing he’s too tired to mess around, knowing his head is too full of other things.

His arm snakes around her waist, strong and slow, as she begins to pull away.

“Stay,” he tells her. So she does.


End file.
